feminist artist movement

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After picking up my sister, Catherine, in Pennsylvania, I drove over to my aunt’s 90th birthday party, but along the way, we stopped at the Brooklyn Museum and saw the Judy Chicago exhibit of “The Dinner Party.”  I had seen this during its late 70’s tour when it appeared in The Cyclorama in Boston.  The Cyclorama was a great venue for the exhibit but seeing it in its present permanent installation was magnificent.

It brought back many of the same feelings from my first viewing; however, at the time, I hadn’t realized the significance of this break-through feminist art, something that now is clear in retrospect.  However, I was deeply touched by it at the time and the Brooklyn display brought back those feelings.

The Brooklyn Museum is a little treasure.  I wish that I had more time to see it, but the party provided a deadline that we had to meet.  We did have enough time to visit the exhibition of ancient Egyptian art.  The museum is definitely on my list of places to visit again.

The party for my aunt was fantastic as was the chance to see the many members of my family.  Following that, my sister and I stayed the night with an old friend who lived nearby.  One of the things about these tours is the chance to catch up with old friends.  It’s a valuable and nurturing experience that is well worth the effort.

 

The next leg took us to Vermont.  A visit to The Vermont Store awakened the “Oh, I want to get out my paint brushes” feeling, but I limited myself to capturing the scenes with my Canon camera and its new 55mm – 250 mm lens.  It’s valuable for close-ups without intruding on the scene. For example, I made some nice shots of a fiddler at the store.

We finally reached the Northeast Kingdom and we had some quality time with my other sister, Judy.  This trip also gave me the opportunity to move some items that we were no longer using in Florida but would be handy when we took up Summer quarters in Vermont.  One of these “items” was the Saturn I’d driven up in.  When the time came to return, I dropped off the car with Judy, and Catherine and I boarded a train for the trip south at Essex Junction.
The trip through the mountains and along the Connecticut River was very beautiful, and the nine-and-a-half hour ride into New York City didn’t seem all that long.  Since the rail lines were laid out during the industrial heyday, any long ride is an interesting mix of the conventionally scenic and a view into the country’s past.

I don’t think I’ve ever arrived in New York with such ease. There was no traffic snarl and I could appreciate the view of the city’s skyline.  We stayed over in NYC and went to visit the Met in the morning.

I had been there several years ago, but it’s always worth a visit.  Simply the magnitude of the place is so impressive. However, the “natural” settings were awe inspiring.  For example, the Tiffany windows were displayed in a portico that was also designed by Tiffany with Islamic inspired columns.  As another example, the Robert Leyman exhibit is set up just as it was shown in his house.  This is truly fantastic.

The highlights tour whizzes you around the museum.  It’s a lot of walking but it does a wonderful joy of whetting your appetite for return explorations.  After the tour was over, we made a more leisurely visit to the impressionists and a selection of Renaissance masters.

We returned to our hostel via a walk through Central Park and then took the subway south.  Catherine split off at Port Authority to take a bus back of Pennsylvania and I continued on to Penn Station for my train back to Delray Beach.  Even though I  arrived well before my departure time, Amtrak made the wait pleasant.  They have a well-appointed waiting area with wi-fi that is right off the subway exit.

While we’ve all heard stories about New Yorkers, my experiences showed me another, much more pleasant side. I had people spontaneously help me with my luggage, the people in the hostel were fantastic.  I was really pleasantly surprised.   I don’t know if it was just that I’m more receptive but I was very very happy to see just how friendly and helpful New Yorkers can be.

The trip back was fun and relaxing.

There was a club car and a dining car.  In some ways, it is taking you back to another era, but in others, I had to think “why do I have to be squished into a flying sewer pipe where I can’t even more, let alone stand up.”  I’m not that tall, but in a commercial plane I barely have any leg room.

The train was very different.  I could stretch my legs all the way out; I could walk around.  It was fun watching the landscape change from the New England setting to Middle Atlantic and finally to the sub-tropical of Florida.

John was waiting for me at the Delray Beach station.  It had been uncomfortable for both of us to be apart for a week, but now we are taking time to kick back and get ready to head north again.  This time we’ll be together and we’ll be going for four months.  The trip up will be slower and we’ll stop to see the sights and I’ll have my paints ready.

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I’m going to take the opportunity of March being “Women’s History Month” and study a bit about women artists in the past.  The biggest problem with studying that topic is that there just isn’t that much readily available material.

My first group show was in 1956

Women in art seem to have been largely ignored until the 1960s and the Feminist Artists Movement.  Of course, this was a challenge, and I love a challenge.

Some of the findings were real eye-openers.

Women artists had not been unproductive in the past.  However, much of what they did was not defined as “art” by the “artistic community;”  it was “craft.”  To show how this worked, we can look at the output from and the reception of the works by very skilled and productive artist, Faith Ringgold.

An African-American woman, Ms Ringgold grew up with family members who had been held in slavery in their youth.  As an adjunct to keeping oral histories, the women of the family had created what they called “Story Quilts.”  The squares in each quilt depicted incidents in the family history.  Ms Ringgold, a painter, took these images and incorporated them into her work, retaining the form and content of the original in the new medium.

It was, to me, such an exciting concept, a sort of “unbroken chain,” connecting people and generations.

To be honest, male artisans of the Renaissance struggled under much the same ghetto-izaton.  Leonardo Da Vinci did more to create the concept of artist-genius that anyone else.  When he began his campaign, the artist was considered a menial craftsman.  By continually stressing the intellectual aspects of art and creativity, Leonardo transformed the artist’s public status into, as he put it “Lord and God”.

Eventually, the men of the era were able to break through the “snob ceiling;” unfortunately, they weren’t accompanied by their female contemporaries when the history was told.   Until the appearance of revisionist art histories in the 1960’s most information about women artist’s was buried.

This brought about a personal revelation.  I had been thinking that I had begun my quest to be an artist a short time ago, but viewing my life through the new facet of a cognitive prism, I realized that I’ve really been on this road for much of my life.  I had been convinced that the quilts, paint-by-number, macramé and all the crafts I had experimented with weren’t really “creative.”  In fact I used to go out plein air drawing when I did not even know it was considered a genre.  When in Boston, I used to go to Walden Pond to soak in the natural beauty of the place and to draw flowers.

However, with this epiphany, I could see that it had been a real outlet for my creativity.  Such an exciting unearthing!

Just recently, my nephew uncovered evidence that I had had an artistic background early in life.  He had been going through some family photos, and he found a picture of me, with my first-grade class, taking part in a group painting exercise in a storefront.  Seeing the picture triggered a wealth of memories.  It had been great fun.  They actually let me use all the paper I wanted.  Midas at his height could not have felt more privileged.

Floodgates open, I remembered that in the seventh grade I had been the team captain for the winning group of youngsters who painted the Halloween decorations for the town storefronts.  It was amusing to think that this was a foretaste for two of my careers: project manager and artist.

It hadn’t seemed worth of consideration back there, but I was the one that drew all the pictures with the members of my team painting them as I directed afterwards.  Shades of a Renaissance studio.

Now, I’m coming to understand there were a lot of road marks, potential premonitions about which I simply hadn’t taken cognizance.

As another example, when I took electives in college, where my cord studies were hard science, I took art courses.

Studying these women artists has been fascinating, both for the factual information and how it has helped me in personal growth.  I’ve put a lot of addition information about what I’ve found on my FaceBook page for anyone who might be interested.

It has been such an interesting experience.

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